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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22796179">reckoning</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouAreMyDesign/pseuds/YouAreMyDesign'>YouAreMyDesign</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Creatures &amp; Monsters, Alternate Universe - Gods &amp; Goddesses, Biting, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Blow Jobs, Bottom Hannibal Lecter, Breeding, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Centaurs, Creature Hannibal Lecter, Dark Will Graham, Exhibitionism, Facials, Human/Monster Romance, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Murder Husbands, Organ Fucking, Power Bottom Will Graham, Prison, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sentient Bestiality, Size Difference, Size Kink, Top Will Graham, bloody blowjobs, cock biting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 18:21:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,283</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22796179</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouAreMyDesign/pseuds/YouAreMyDesign</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He does not know what the king's spellcasters did to him, only knows that, for a while, there was only the endless pain of his shifting body, growing new bones and snapping joints apart, stretching his skin so taut it would tear around compound fractures and his blood stained the ground as heavy as rain.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>355</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Wendigo &amp; Stag</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Their hands are bruising, their mouths twisted into vicious, hateful sneers. They pull him from his bed in the dead of night, whip him until his back is open and bloody, rip out his hair in chunks as his wrists are bound and he's tied to the back of a horse, the animal kicked into a trot so that he cannot keep up. He stumbles to his knees, first, and then his stomach, and then rolls to his back to try to save his face and snarls at the feeling of rough cobblestones, loose rocks and leaves, and the occasional kicking boot strike aimed at him.</p><p>He's taken to the palace and thrown to the feet of their king. The air is heavy with burgeoning storm clouds and he can taste salt on his tongue, tears of pain he cannot hold back brimming in his eyes.</p><p>The king is a skinny and weak man, pale as a ghost on his giant golden throne. One day, one day he will wrench it from the podium and throw it into the sea. Beside him sits the queen, even smaller and trembling with fear. His eyes, that same beautiful blue of summer skies and riverbeds, can meet his for only a moment before they slip away.</p><p>"We have found him, your Majesty," the leader of the charge barks, fisting a hand in his hair and yanking his chin up. "This foreign bull who has made your queen a whore and you a cuck."</p><p>The king rises, his robes falling around him like vines on a branch. The king is so thin, his bones would snap so easily, but he would barely be able to rise before a blade found its mark. And he cannot risk his queen getting caught in the midst of such desperate violence.</p><p>Fingers like mere bones with a paltry layer of skin stretched over them grip his chin, and he meets the king's eyes. They are so brown to be almost black, sitting beady like a rat over too-thin brows. The king's lips purse, and he looks to his queen.</p><p>"This is who you'd rather have warming your bed?" he asks. His voice feels like syrup force fed to the back of the throat – too heavy and far too sweet.</p><p>The queen stands. He is beautiful, every commoner and nobleman would say it is so. Not even the very real fear bringing a pallor to his face and making his hands shake can rob him of his beauty. "My Lord, how can you say that?" he demands, gentle as a mother but demanding as a goddess. Wrath, bared and naked as a newborn, screaming just as loud, gleams behind his ocean-colored iris. "Have you not already had your doctors examine me? Did they not swear that I am still a virgin?"</p><p>The king scoffs. "For all I know you fucked them too for them to claim it. They were so eager to assure me you had been untouched."</p><p>The queen's lips thin out. "My Lord, you are not a violent man," he says, voice growing tight when the king jerks his head up further and gestures for a guard to carry his sword over. "You have no proof!"</p><p>"I can tell by the way you speak," the king replies harshly, turning to glare at his <em>beloved</em> wife. "You have no gentleness in you for me, nor for your subjects. This man is the first I have placed at your feet that you spoke in favor of. That is enough proof for me."</p><p>The queen laughs, bitter and high. "I'm punished whether I am gracious or not! <em>Fine</em>," he hisses, and the king blinks at him, lowering his sword. "If you are a murderer, do it now. End my suffering for good, for if you kill him, I will throw myself from the cliffs and let the god of the ocean devour me."</p><p>The king's eyes widen. He takes a step back. "You would kill yourself for this man's sake?" he whispers. He cannot help grow warm at the way the queen nods, without hesitation. The queen has never given him reason to doubt his loyalty, and his love. The nights they are together, though so rare it causes great pain, are passionate enough to reignite dead stars. His soul burns for his queen, and he knows, he <em>knows, </em>that his beloved has never looked upon anyone else with such adoration.</p><p>"You wound me with every unkindness you show him," the queen replies. "Release him. If you have ever loved me, you will do it."</p><p>Ah, but there's the rub, isn't it? The king cannot show weakness in front of his soldiers, and the gathering of men that brought him here. He cannot release the man accused of bedding his queen under his very nose without so much as a 'By your leave'.</p><p>But the king is weak, and loves his queen ardently. The queen is capable of such great cruelty and cutting words, able to lay men low in abject misery with merely a look. There is divinity in his veins, it's been said by everyone. He is of the line of gods, and must not be betrayed.</p><p>The king sighs, lowering his weapon until the tip touches the ground. His arm trembles from holding it for so long. "Exile, then," he says. The queen smiles, and nods, turning away with the assurance that his will be done. When he is gone, the king snarls, and beckons one of his courtiers forward. With him, the man who led the charge and ambushed him at home.</p><p>"We will throw him into the dungeons," the king says. "And now is as good a time as any to experiment with our newest spells."</p><p>He doesn't hear anything beyond that. A blow to his temple sends him careening into darkness.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The ages pass with agonizing slowness. He is a creature of dirt and blood and bone. Occasionally a new prisoner arrives, and he rips them to shreds while they scream. Their flesh nourishes him just enough to keep him alive, but he is starving.</p><p>The king's men used to come to the grate through which appears the only shaft of sunlight, to jeer at him and piss on him and call him a monster and a whoremonger. He would snarl at them for daring to call their queen a <em>whore</em>, and wonders if, somewhere on the distant mountains where the gods dwell, the goddess who bore the queen's ancestors into the world is quivering with rage.</p><p>He does not know what the king's spellcasters did to him, only knows that, for a while, there was only the endless pain of his shifting body, growing new bones and snapping joints apart, stretching his skin so taut it would tear around compound fractures and his blood stained the ground as heavy as rain.</p><p>Now he has four legs. A skeletal facsimile of a horse, or perhaps a bull. A vaguely human torso juts from the center of his forelegs, his skin has taken on so much ash and dust it has become black. Horns, wide and heavy as the proudest stag, split his skull and through his hair, always growing no matter what he does to try and grind them down. His teeth have become fangs, all at wrong angles so he cannot quite close his mouth comfortably. His fingers, claws. In the occasional puddles of rain he sees that his eyes glow red.</p><p>A monster, a beast, truly; some nightmarish thing no one could love. His queen never visited – of course, he would have never known. He thinks his fate was exile, that he is wandering some distant land, that he has found another beautiful young lover to wed and bed and breed to bursting. When he thinks of his queen allowing the king into his bed, bearing him children, his entire body vibrates and shudders with rage.</p><p>One night, when the air is startlingly pleasant and warm, he hears the heavy thud of a new body being dropped into his lair. He snarls, scrabbling to his feet, races through the maze of his dungeon home to find the source of fresh meat.</p><p>He finds it, a haphazard tangle of shattered limbs. It's a man, frail and weak-looking, dressed in such finery it gives him pause.</p><p>He kneels down, reaches past the broken neck and the back of the crushed skull, and turns it, to look upon the face of none other than the king. He gasps, eyes wide, wondering who would be so brazen to murder the king and throw him down to the pit.</p><p>He looks up, but sees no shadow, smells nothing but death and old sweat.</p><p>He supposes it does not matter. Flesh is flesh, after all, though the king is, as always, found lacking.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It is with delicate fingers crunching between his teeth and a long tongue licking blood from his hands, that he pauses. His head cocks to one side, his weight shifting to rest on the flank of his beast form, as he hears a slow shuffle, smells a scent so sweet and gentle that his mouth floods with saliva. He snarls, as the edges of the moonlight coming down through the grate breaks at the circle's edge, reveals a foot. Then another, and then the folded hands of a man. The man steps close, robed in fine, translucent silk, so sheer he may as well be naked.</p><p>The moon illuminates his face, and he gasps in recognition.</p><p>The queen shows no fear, not like he did the day he was taken away, but he's clearly shocked at what he sees. He puts a hand to his mouth, eyes bright with tears. It stirs something in the monster, something that he long-thought dead.</p><p>"Oh, by the gods," the queen whispers. "What have they done to you?"</p><p>He rises, the queen's head craning back as he straightens to his full height. Blood and slips of flesh cling to him, matting his fur, painting his blackened skin. He steps over the body and approaches the queen, bends down when the queen reaches, shaking fingers flattening on his sharp-edged cheek.</p><p>"Hannibal," he says, and he blinks. <em>Hannibal</em>, yes, that was his name. Long ago. "My love, do you remember me?"</p><p>How could he forget? He reaches and grips the queen's arm, drawing a wince when his claws cut deep and the scent of fresh blood meets him. A snarl rumbles in his chest and he closes his eyes, tilting his head into the gentle touch on his cheek.</p><p>"Can you speak?"</p><p>It has been an age, but he must try; "Will," he murmurs, speaking the name of his beloved for what feels like the first time in centuries. Will smiles, eyes watery, gazing up at him as he always has, so full of affection it makes every muscle in Hannibal's body tighten. "How are you here?"</p><p>"I thought you had gone," Will whispers, stepping closer. With Hannibal's body so changed, the inch of height difference between them has grown so much more vast. Even at his full height, on his toes and reaching, Will's hand can only just touch his face. Hannibal kneels, forelegs folding, so that they are at relatively the same height.</p><p>Will cups his face with both hands, carefully navigates his horns so their foreheads can brush. "I heard him speaking to his spellcaster," he says, voice dark and cutting and so heavy with rage. "I heard what he had done to you." His fingers curl and he spits his next words; "I was so <em>blind</em>."</p><p>"Did you kill him?" Hannibal rasps.</p><p>Will smiles, and nods. "I did," he replies. "I told him I was finally ready to let him bed me. In his eagerness, he didn't see my knife."</p><p>Hannibal snarls, his free hand sliding between Will's legs. He curls his claws gently around his thigh, the softness of the silk so different from any sensation he has had for so long. It feels like touching stardust. "Has anyone else…?"</p><p>"No," Will growls. "No. Only you, Hannibal. Always, only you."</p><p>Hannibal's body shivers with relief. He closes his eyes when Will kisses him, uncaring for how sharp his teeth are now, how thin his lips. He is a monster, a beast, but Will still kisses him like a man. Will's hands withdraw, and he tugs at the silk wrapped around him, baring his pale, beautiful flesh to Hannibal's greedy gaze.</p><p>He kisses Hannibal again, licking into his mouth to share the taste of his former husband. "I am a queen without a mate, Hannibal," he sighs, eyes shining in the moonlight. His body arches close, so warm and inviting, and Hannibal's lips twitch back in a snarl, the hand between Will's legs curling and rubbing higher still, behind his cock to the sweet, dry skin, his entrance, so long gone empty.</p><p>He sighs, but does not shake his head, wary of hurting his beloved on his sharp horns. "I am not made to mate with anyone, now," he murmurs. He meets Will's gaze. "I could not bear hurting you, my queen."</p><p>"Don't worry about that," Will coaxes, petting down his chest, his arms. He takes Hannibal's hands in his own and kisses each knuckle, one by one. "My dear late husband is not the only one who can cast spells." He smiles, cupping Hannibal's cheek. "I have the blood of gods in me, Hannibal. You cannot harm me."</p><p>Hannibal swallows, and Will arches a brow, that same cruel, haughty smile making the corners of his mouth seem so sharp. He steps back, and takes one of Hannibal's horns in his hand, pushing at it so Hannibal is forced to turn, to shift his weight so he is lying on his side, his forelegs tucked up, one arm braced outwards, back legs curled but open. Will makes a pleased sound, and kneels down at his belly.</p><p>He releases Hannibal's horn, and spreads both hands wide along Hannibal's flank, brushing over the blood-matted fur. His fingers curl as he settles on his knees.</p><p>"You were made for me," he says, with the same assurance as a priest. His eyes lift, meeting Hannibal's. "I knew it the moment I saw you. Now, after so long without your touch, I know it's true – my body still burns for you, even as you are."</p><p>He pauses, swallows, and adds; "Even more, as you are."</p><p>Hannibal blinks at him, and his answer is lost in a soft gasp as Will's hands slide down to his belly, and then lower still, to where his beast form has a heavy, thick sheath to keep his cock clean while flaccid. He dips a thumb into the wide slit, and it's wet on the inside, and Hannibal snarls, teeth showing as Will strokes his sheath with one hand, gently teases his cockhead with the other, a savage, victorious smile on his face.</p><p>He fixes Hannibal with another expectant look, another arched brow. "Do you not still hunger for me, Hannibal?"</p><p>"I have ached for you every day," Hannibal replies. Will smiles, and leans down, and Hannibal curls himself up as much as he can so he can watch Will lick over the tip of his slit, tongue following the line of his thumb until he meets Hannibal's emerging cockhead. It's thick, and flared, far too large to reasonably be expected to fit inside his beloved. Still, he cannot help shudder and moan as Will parts his lips wide, only able to suckle at half of it as Hannibal hardens, and slides from his sheath. Will's hand squeezes in encouragement as more of it emerges, glistening with natural slick, thick as one of Will's legs, leaking precum at the tip that Will shoves his cheek against and licks clean with a greedy moan.</p><p>"<em>Yes</em>," he says, echoing the deep hunger Hannibal has felt since he came to this place. He shivers as Will wraps a hand around the shaft, stroking, utterly unable to connect his fingers, and squeezes the base of the flared head, strokes down the entire length of it until he reaches the dripping sheath.</p><p>"Oh, Hannibal," he breathes, his eyes wide with awe. He meets Hannibal's burning gaze, and gives him a sweet smile, pushing himself to his feet. He approaches Hannibal's human self and cups his face, kissing him deeply. "I need you. Don't tell me 'No', I will not leave this place without your seed flooded through every part of me."</p><p>Hannibal gasps, helpless to resist his queen as he has always been. He kisses Will ravenously, claws sweeping up Will's thighs to cup his hips. He rolls farther onto his flank, almost to his back, and Will moans as he straddles Hannibal's belly, hands sliding between his forelegs as he arches, riding the flared head of Hannibal's cock.</p><p>He sits back when they need air, giving Hannibal one of his beautiful smiles, and looks down. He cups the bottom of the flared head, sighs and tilts his head up as he angles himself so it pushes blunt at his entrance. Hannibal chokes on his protest, gripping Will's wrist to try and get him to stop, but Will is as fierce and determined as he has always been.</p><p>He pushes at Hannibal's cockhead, the bottom half of it piercing Will's body, enveloped in tight, dry heat. Hannibal is leaking so much his precum stains his fur and Will's hand, dripping down his wrist. Will pets it over the rest of him, moaning high and long, lit with silvery moonlight as he grinds Hannibal's cockhead between his legs, riding it with urgent little rocks of his hips.</p><p>It's slow, and Hannibal can feel Will tearing as he works himself deeper and deeper, forcing more of it in. Until, suddenly, Will groans and cups the rest of it, and it sinks inside him with a savage, squelching sound, and Hannibal feels Will's rim and internal muscles tear. There are no tears in Will's eyes, but blood drips from him as heavy as sweat.</p><p>"Oh <em>fuck</em>," he gasps, tossing his head like a brazen wildling, bracing himself on Hannibal's belly as he digs his heels into Hannibal's flanks and pushes back, farther still. His hand slides to his cock, which is hard and dripping as Hannibal is, stroking himself tightly.</p><p>"Will," Hannibal growls, hardly able to keep his eyes open. Will's body fits around him like a suffocating grip, a chokehold that is so drenched in fresh, wet blood. Will clenches around him and Hannibal cannot see anything but red. Will grunts as he forces himself to take more, his belly bulging with Hannibal's cockhead so he looks pregnant.</p><p>The sight causes a visceral curl of satisfaction to bloom in Hannibal's stomach. He snarls, digging his claws into Will's hips.</p><p>Will's eyes flash, he grips his own cock tightly, shuddering as he bows forward and comes onto the sweaty fur between Hannibal's forelegs. It feels like his entire body clenches like a fist, and Hannibal growls in pleasure, his body trying to bend and twist so that he can hold Will tighter and push him down more.</p><p>Will smiles. "So eager," he says, dreamlike. He plants his feet and rises, but Hannibal's cockhead is so large he's stuck, and cannot pull out. Will laughs, lashes fluttering in pleasure, pets the blood soaking Hannibal's shaft and licks his fingers clean.</p><p>He turns, so he's facing away, and drapes himself over Hannibal's beast shape. Hannibal grips his shoulders, knowing what Will wants. Will clings to his hooves as Hannibal pushes him down, and he can watch as he parts Will's body, making his lower stomach bulge, first, then his belly. Then, he feels the resistance of his ribs, but parts them, too, and Will chokes on the blood in his mouth, tilts his head back and gives Hannibal a wide, red smile.</p><p>He reaches up and Hannibal takes his hand, kisses his knuckles. His other hand wraps around Will's throat. He rolls himself to his feet, holding Will by his cock and his hand and Will moans, loudly, his toes barely brushing the floor.</p><p>"<em>Yes</em>," he rasps, as Hannibal lowers himself down so his forelegs are bent, knees to the ground, and Will can brace himself between them. Hannibal fucks forward, snarling in pleasure as he feels every inch of Will parting around him. He releases his queen's neck so he can breathe, covers his mouth instead so his fingers grow wet with Will's blood.</p><p>Will trembles beneath him, but still, Hannibal smells no tears, no fear in him. Nothing but pleasure, and if there was ever any moment that proved Will's divinity, this is it, for he's sure if Will were a mortal man, he would be but a body around Hannibal's cock, warmth quickly fading.</p><p>He can feel the bulge of his cock at the base of Will's throat, clogging his lungs. Can feel his ribs fracture and split around him as he moves. Can feel how Will, still, tightens around him in pleasure, moans and fucks back to get Hannibal deeper inside him.</p><p>It's too much – the first pleasant sensation Hannibal has felt in an age, and after so long with nothing else. He grips Will's hair and shoves himself as deep as he can, snarling and bucking his head as he comes, horns shrieking against the stone ground. Will chokes, and from his mouth drips a heavy gush of Hannibal's semen, almost as much as what leaks out between his thighs.</p><p>Will licks his lips, and smiles.</p><p>Hannibal snarls as his cock retreats, softening but in no way getting smaller. It tugs Will to his very toes, and then the flared head fights its way free with a loud pop, and Will collapses onto his hands and knees, breathing hard, drenched in blood and come and sweat.</p><p>Hannibal moves, laying down and panting as he recovers. He reaches for Will, pulling him close, nuzzling his sodden hair and tenderly petting the mess from Will's bruised mouth. Will catches his wrist, breathing in deeply, and kisses him sweet and long.</p><p>"You may be a monster, my love," Will murmurs, fucked-out and hoarse, "but you are mine. It is time you left this awful prison and took your rightful place at my side."</p><p>Hannibal blinks, looking up to the grate. After so long down here, it doesn't feel like the outside world exists for him anymore. He thinks of himself standing next to the throne, or perhaps lying in front of it, Will's feet draped along his flank, toes tucked behind his foreleg. Imagines Will petting his hair and, perhaps, if one courtier is a little too careless, one envoy a little too presumptuous and disrespectful, he might touch the base of Hannibal's neck, command him rise. Command him lunge, spearing the waste of life on his horns.</p><p>He shivers, wetting his lips. "As always, I am yours to command, my queen," he murmurs.</p><p>Will smiles at him, his teeth bloodied and shining. He kisses, as ravenously as he had before they laid together, and Hannibal's fingers find where he is gaping and open and wet. He moans into Will's kiss, feeling himself start to respond again.</p><p>Will gasps when Hannibal's fingers penetrate him, lashes dropping low and eyes black with pleasure. He growls, pushing himself back onto it, uncaring for how Hannibal's claws cut him on the inside. And they do cut, and Will's flesh is mangled, his scent sour with burst organs and poisoned blood. Truly, he is not mortal. Truly, he is divine.</p><p>Will stands, thighs trembling, and pulls himself away. He gathers his silk and drapes it around himself, blood and sweat immediately coloring the fabric a dark, dark red. He smiles, and holds out his hand, pleased when Hannibal's bloody fingers lace with his.</p><p>"I will see you well-fed, my love," he promises, as they begin their trek towards the dungeon entrance. "There are scores of men who have offended me greatly." He pauses, tilts his head up to meet Hannibal's eyes. "Do you think the king was a tyrant?"</p><p>"He was too weak to be a tyrant," Hannibal replies.</p><p>Will smiles. "And me?" he asks, sweet and gentle, like a knife beneath velvet. His hand brushes over the part of Hannibal's back where human skin becomes equine fur. There are scars from his treatment, here, misshapen knots of malformed muscle. Will's touch feels like healing salve. "Do you think me too weak?"</p><p>"Never." And he understands what Will is asking. He smiles. "You are wrath and ruin, my queen. Cruel, and beautiful, and worthy of every bloody sacrifice I can make in your name."</p><p>Will laughs. They emerge into the open air, the guards that once barred the door lying in a slaughtered ring around it. Hannibal's entire body shivers in delight at the sight of them, stomach echoing with hunger that is never sated.</p><p>Will hums, and brings Hannibal down by a horn. Kisses him, and commands; "Feast, my lovely monster. You'll need your strength for my designs."</p><p>Just as he always has – eagerly, feverishly, alight with love and adoration – Hannibal obeys his queen's command.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His queen is beautiful and terrible and cruel. He is wrath and ruin and glory. Hannibal cannot remember loving another living thing as much as he loves his queen. He sits at Will's feet, Will's soles and toes kept warm against his flank. His head rests on his mate's thigh as Will pets what little remains of his hair, scratches around the furrowed flesh where his horns sprout from like Hannibal is a purring cat. Every inch of him is capable of feeling sensation, so he feels it when Will pets up his horns, grips them and drags his nails along their hard edges. He sands them, occasionally, like filing nails, to sharp points.</p><p>"And why should your harvest concern me?" he hears the queen ask, in that familiar haughty tone. He has not softened a mite during their separation. He is cunning and awful, and Hannibal adores him with every fiber of his being.</p><p>"My -. My queen." The farmer kneeling in front of Will's throne trembles visibly, both at Hannibal's presence and the cold, expectant look in Will's eyes. "I simply wish to continue providing for the kingdom. Please, if you could spare just a half dozen men, to help me redirect the river so that my fields do not flood come summertime -."</p><p>"I've heard enough," Will says, waving a dismissive hand. He turns his head, to the only advisor from the king he allowed to live. Her name is Chiyoh, and she is a detached young woman, equally matching Will's cold, direct nature. She had no love for the king, that much was evident even when he was still alive. Hannibal had learned, upon his rescue and recovery, that she had been the one to provide Will the knife that found itself in the king's belly. "Chiyoh, take a few men from the most recent draft and send them on their way."</p><p>The farmer's eyes are wide, his face pale, but he smiles and clasps his hands, bobbing his head in gratitude. "Thank you, my queen. Thank you."</p><p>"Spare me your thanks," Will replies. "If your harvest fails, I will sell your children to the war efforts as payment. Bring in the next one." The farmer scurries from view, and Hannibal watches him go with a dispassionate eye. He knows his presence unnerves the peasantry, but he cannot help but think it's the only thing that gives Will patience. The queen barely cares for the plight of his people, gives them just enough kindness and grace to keep them loyal. He has the blood of gods in his veins, after all, and no one would dare rise up against him.</p><p>The next plaintiff is a tall man, with a scarred face. He has both the bearing and dress of a lesser nobleman, though Hannibal does not know his name, nor from where he hails. He approaches the queen and bows to one knee with a graceful flourish. Hannibal's head tilts curiously, though he is careful not to cut his mate on his horns.</p><p>Will smiles, eyes brightening in intrigue. "You are new," he notes, as the man lifts his head from his bow. He smiles, wide enough that, combined with the scar on his lip, several of his teeth are on show. Behind him, servants in similar garb as his approach, with chests that look heavy and, when they are set down, clink and settle with loud metallic noises.</p><p>"My queen," the man says, and stands. Will lifts his chin, fingers petting absently down the nape of Hannibal's neck. "I have traveled far, and brought gifts from my lands. We were once friends with your former husband, and I daresay your kingdom has never looked so beautiful since you took the throne."</p><p>His flattering tongue and honey-sweet words make Hannibal snarl. Will merely laughs.</p><p>"What former ally speaks to me today?"</p><p>"I am Francis," the man replies. "Dolarhyde. I hail from the South, where for many ages we have supplied your kingdom with riches mined from the dragon's mountain, and steel with no equal in all the land." Will hums. "I have brought you a gift to celebrate your coronation. I only ask you forgive my lateness – the road is long, and we only just received word that you were now in power."</p><p>"And are these gifts supposed to soften my heart or otherwise endear me to you?" Will challenges, one brow arched. "Surely we are friends, why would the dragon's kingdom send me a lord with such fine patronage?"</p><p>"I admit, my queen, my purpose in coming to you is twofold," Francis replies. "I have long admired you, for your beauty and your cunning and your wrath. Truly, you have the blood of gods and the nature of dragons in you." Will hums, head tilting to one side. "I have come with a proposition – that you accept these gifts as a dowry, and agree to unite our lands by becoming my wife."</p><p>There is silence. Will does not hold audiences with those of the court; he does not fear for his life, for no native would rise against him, and with Hannibal here, he has all the protection he needs. Even Chiyoh, after her command, has left the room, and so it is just Will and Hannibal with Francis in his audience chamber.</p><p>Will laughs, after a moment. It is loud and cutting. "A dragon's bravery," he purrs, and smiles. "But I have no need for a consort, nor a husband." He cups Hannibal's nape, slides gentle fingers up his blackened skull.</p><p>Francis' eyes flash, and lower to Hannibal's. His scarred lip twitches in distaste. "Forgive my plain speech, my queen, but if you think this beast you keep is the same as a lawfully wedded spouse -."</p><p>"It's not what I think, it's what I know," Will replies. He draws his feet from Hannibal's flank and releases his head, and Hannibal tenses in readiness. Will stands, his eyes almost black, a stormy ocean wind-tossed and fierce. "How dare you come into my lands, without invitation, and think you can buy me with jewels and steel?" Will hisses. "Do you think the blood of your extinct ancestors is a match for mine?"</p><p>Francis blinks at him, eyes darkening. "Surely better than that of an accursed beast," he snaps.</p><p>Will smiles. He makes a small gesture, barely more than a curl of his fingers, but for Hannibal it is as much as a cry for war. Hannibal rises, his beast-like form easily towering even over Francis. Francis eyes him, with more agitation than fear.</p><p>"I'm afraid you're too late, lord Dolarhyde," Will purrs. "My heart already belongs to another, and cannot be bought with jewels and weapons and any other riches your land might provide. The only good you will serve today is meat for my beloved's belly."</p><p>He turns, and smiles at Hannibal. "My love," he murmurs, and approaches Hannibal, a gentle hand on his chest. He lifts to his toes and Hannibal bends down for a kiss, as ravenous for his queen as he has always been. "Kill him slowly," Will whispers against his mouth.</p><p>Hannibal grins, and pulls back. Will has fitted his human torso with a breastplate, more for aesthetic reasons than for any means of protection. The king's curse on him does not allow him to bleed or suffer any illness, for that would mean his death would come too quickly.</p><p>He rushes for Francis, and bows his head, spearing the man neatly on his horns. He lifts him into the air and tosses him at Will's feet, several thick punctures from his sharp horns having ripped holes straight through the man's armor and robes. Francis chokes on his blood, gurgling and coughing, and Hannibal approaches him. He can feel blood dripping down his horns, his face, his shoulders.</p><p>He bows down, kneeling on his forelegs, and takes the man's offending tongue in his sharp claws, ripping it out like he might delicately spear a tomato from the vine. Will laughs, his smile wide, eyes dark and lashes low with pleasure, as Hannibal offers it to him. Will takes it, and eats it, taking his seat back on his throne as Hannibal gathers the body in an affectionate embrace, and begins to eat while Francis is still alive.</p><p>Will hums. "He brings up an interesting point," he says idly, licking his fingers clean as Hannibal eats. Hannibal lifts his head and meets his eyes. "I have no children. My legacy lives and dies with me."</p><p>Hannibal drops the body, which has now begun to cool. There's a hole in Francis' stomach that ekes fresh red, organs torn to shreds by Hannibal's teeth. "I will give you children," he says fiercely. "A score of them, as terrible and beautiful as you are, my queen."</p><p>Will shakes his head. "My body, strong thought it is, is not large enough," he replies. "They will likely have elements of your curse, my love. Horns and hooves that would rip me apart from the inside. And I would not suffer months of celibacy in deference to their creation, should they take up so much room."</p><p>"Then I will carry them," Hannibal says, distraught at the idea that Will might lay with another to sate his maternal urges, faint and borne out of pride though they may be. Will's eyes flash, and his head tilts curiously. "Impregnate me, my queen. I will gladly bear your children into the world."</p><p>Will smiles, widely, his lashes going low again. Hannibal goes to him, and reaches for him, taking both his hands in his large, clawed grip. "I would kill any man who tried to touch you," he vows, and shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Will. Cast me aside, beat and torture me if you must, but if I knew another man had laid with you I -."</p><p>He stops. Will has always, only, ever loved him. Hannibal knows that. He knows Will siring a child with someone else would not be an act of love, but necessity. And he knows, yes, Will could likely not carry it himself. If their children shared even some of Hannibal's cursed shape, they would destroy his beloved on the inside.</p><p>Will smiles like a doll, porcelain and unreadable. He tilts his head and forces Hannibal's hands lower, to where fine silks and delicate fabric barely conceal his modesty. Will knows he is beautiful, and flaunts it to everyone who dares to look.</p><p>"Your words touch me in a way that fool's did not," he breathes, as he coaxes Hannibal's claws to tear at his clothes, his thighs spreading to reveal where he is warm and soft and open. His queen is a voracious lover, powerful and fine, and has remained in a near-constant state of open and wet since Hannibal's rescue. If he thought his queen passionate before Hannibal's imprisonment, it is nothing compared to how he reacts to Hannibal now.</p><p>His cock is red and hard, leaking at the tip. He fixes Hannibal with an arched brow, hands sliding up to grip Hannibal by the horns, as he slouches on his throne and lifts his legs so they fall over Hannibal's shoulders. Hannibal growls, unable to move too far since Will is holding his horns so tightly, unwilling to rise up and risk injuring his queen. He knows what Will wants.</p><p>He parts his jaws, mindful of his sharp teeth, his mouth wet with blood and organ matter from Francis. He swallows Will whole, engulfing his cock down to the root. Will sighs, tipping his head back, biting his lower lip as he watches through low-lidded eyes. Watches Hannibal force his throat to take all of Will, until it bruises him on the inside.</p><p>"You're so good," Will purrs, petting his cheek in a way that feels both affectionate and patronizing. Hannibal curls his long tongue around Will's cock, eagerly licking at the sharp precum spilling from his head, cheeks hollowing as he sucks. Will shivers. "Give me your teeth."</p><p>Hannibal groans, but obeys. His fangs cut instantly, shallow but sharp, and his mouth floods with the taste of Will's blood, so much richer and sweeter than any other man he has tasted. Whether it's arousal, or Will's divinity, Will transcends every pound of flesh, every meal Hannibal could ever imagine.</p><p>Will moans, a flush gathering on his cheeks, down his neck and his chest. He presses a hand to his stomach and arches up, a sharp thrust with his heels dug into Hannibal's back, shoving his cock as deep as he's able. Hannibal moans, feeling himself start to respond, as helpless and reactive as he has always been to Will. With the way he's positioned, kneeling at his queen's feet with his forelegs bent, he can only reach between them and feel the very tip of his own cock, dripping wet from where it was sheathed.</p><p>Will's eyes flash, and he snarls. "You will finish inside me, or not at all," he hisses. Hannibal cannot pull off him to answer, so he merely nods and closes his eyes in a slow blink of agreement. Saliva and blood are pooling behind his lips and he parts them, so that it drips down Will's balls, his perineum, his rim, his thighs. Will drops his hands so he can start fingering himself open as Hannibal sucks him, teeth sheathed now, bobbing his head in slow, careful thrusts.</p><p>"Mm, <em>fuck</em>," Will gasps, tilting his head back again as he shoves three fingers of each hand into himself, stretching himself out. His rim is bloody and sore, leaking what remains of Hannibal's come and his own blood, since Hannibal cannot help but tear his mate every time, no matter how gentle he is or how stretched Will is. There is simply not enough room inside him for Hannibal.</p><p>Will yanks him off with a snarl, his cock blooming with fresh blood as he wraps a hand around it, stroking tightly. His other hand grips Hannibal's horn to hold him still. The first splash of Will's come takes him by surprise, and Hannibal gasps, eyes closing as Will paints his bloody face with his come.</p><p>"Oh, <em>Hannibal</em>," Will gasps. "Oh, you beautiful, lovely monster. Come here." He releases Hannibal's horn and pushes himself to his feet, turning and kneeling on the seat of his throne, hands gripping the top ridge of the back of it. He looks at Hannibal over his shoulder. "Show me why I should never let another man touch me like I let you."</p><p>Hannibal snarls, shoving himself to his feet, and then up, his forelegs framing Will's knees on the throne, his hands flattening over Will's completely, claws digging in and cutting into the gold as though it is no stronger than butter. He's hard and ready, always ready for his queen, and he presses his belly flat to Will's ass, rutting between his thighs, and then up.</p><p>It's hard to push into Will. Will is so small compared to him, and though he is divine, it's so much to ask of his body to take Hannibal's gigantic cock. Still, Will is open enough to catch, and then it's a question of stubbornness and persistence, which they both have in spades.</p><p>Hannibal lowers himself over his mate, bending his human spine down so that he can see Will's eyes. See how they flash in pain, darken, shutter closed as Hannibal pierces him. As it always does, his cock tears Will up on the inside, and Will groans weakly, a thin river of red spilling from his mouth as Hannibal tears him apart and makes room for himself inside his beloved, merciless queen.</p><p>Will gasps, lifting his ass up higher and shoving back so he takes more of Hannibal inside him, and though Hannibal cannot see, and doesn't want to let go of the throne to feel it, he knows Will's belly is bulging with Hannibal. It will force his ribs to break and splinter, crack his collarbones, inflate his throat. Hannibal cups Will's neck so he can feel the flared head of his cock sitting just below Will's larynx, and snarls, tightening his fingers as though Will's flesh is not there, so he can feel the pressure enhanced around his cock.</p><p>Will's eyes open, shining brightly with satisfaction. He smiles with blood in his teeth. "Hannibal," he purrs. He shouldn't be able to speak, but speak he does, and fights a trembling hand free to cup Hannibal's come-marked face.</p><p>Hannibal closes his eyes, moaning weakly as Will's entire body clenches and shivers around him. He widens his hindlegs, bracing himself, and holds Will by the throat as he thrusts. Will's chest collides with the back of his throne, the entire thing rocking with the force of Hannibal's thrusts. Will moans, and drops a hand to his torn cock again. Hannibal's nostrils flare at the scent of Will's arousal.</p><p>"Harder," Will demands, snarling the word. Hannibal cannot do anything but obey. He tightens his hand around Will's throat and fucks him brutally, as merciless and driven as his queen. He feels Will's legs twitching, muscles tightening like death throes. Still, when he stares down at Will, he finds him smiling. Even as he chokes up blood and the torn remains of his organs, he smiles and moans and comes with a sweet cry on Hannibal's cock, staining the seat of the throne, which is already so bloody. The cushion used to be golden fabric, and now it is so, so red.</p><p>"My sweet monster," Will whispers, dragging his nails down Hannibal's cheek, curling his fingers around the collar of his breastplate. It's hard and unforgiving against Will's back and Hannibal feels how the bones of his spine scrape against it. Will's eyes flash open, and meet Hannibal's with a fierceness that sends a shiver through him. "You know I love you, don't you?"</p><p>Hannibal slows, and swallows. "Half as much as I love you, I'm sure," he replies weakly.</p><p>Will laughs. Hannibal's cock pushes, somehow, further, and Hannibal can see shreds of his insides on the back of Will's tongue. Will bows his head and spits them out, like he has no use for them. He will probably give them to Hannibal to eat, after.</p><p>The scent of it, the way Will so readily discards entire pieces of himself to make room for Hannibal – well, that is as much a declaration of love as he's sure his queen is capable of. Hannibal goes still, grunting as he comes, and Will chokes and coughs up the semen that floods his mouth, staining the entirety of his insides, leaking out around Hannibal's thick cock.</p><p>Hannibal sighs, and releases Will's throat, which is now so bruised and purple it no longer looks like human skin. His cock softens, and withdraws only a little. Will's body is greedy and tight, Hannibal so large it can't escape easily. Will brings his legs together and bows his head, groaning softly as he bears down around Hannibal, bodily shoving him out. Hannibal's cock comes free with a wet, sloppy sound, a heavy gush of blood and come leaking out behind like water from a burst dam.</p><p>He moves off the throne, wary of crushing his beloved queen, and watches as Will gathers the chunks of organs he coughed up. He eats half of them, humming in contentment, and holds the rest out to Hannibal with a steady hand. Hannibal takes it reverently, overwhelmed with love when he sees Will's proud smile.</p><p>Will spreads his legs again, showing Hannibal the terrible mess he made. "Your turn," he purrs, and gestures for Hannibal to come to him again. Hannibal bows his head in acquiescence. Given their size difference, he's sure it won't hurt too badly even if Will should take him dry.</p><p>Which he does. He wraps a hand in Hannibal's tail and tugs it to one side, making Hannibal lie down on his animal belly, his legs tucked up neatly beneath him. Will kneels behind him and only gives Hannibal a cursory swipe of his dirty, come-crusted hand, before he's forcing his way inside with a soft snarl.</p><p>Hannibal closes his eyes, bracing his human hands on the floor. Having Will inside him is intimate, in a way he didn't expect. He pleases his queen every night; Will is an eager and enthusiastic lover, even more so than when Hannibal was human, but having Will penetrate him like this, willing to give Hannibal his seed and his children – it strikes a nerve Hannibal had no idea was so raw. That Will loves him enough, desires him enough, to trust Hannibal with a growing life, that he can muster up more than passive reception of Hannibal inside him. The way Will's free hand pets tenderly over his rump, up the sweaty flanks of his horse body, wraps in the knots at the back of his armor and pulls. The way Will comes so quickly, just as overwhelmed with desire.</p><p>Hannibal smiles.</p><p>Will pulls out and lets his tail go, rising to his full height. Blood has dripped down his thighs to stain his feet, his clothes are ruined and cling to him, in no way hiding himself should anyone care to look. He circles to Hannibal's head and smiles at him, cups his face and kisses him deeply.</p><p>"You will remain like this for the rest of our audiences," Will tells him. He moves away, dragging Francis' body over to Hannibal so that he can continue to eat if hunger strikes. "I will fuck you whenever I desire to, until the day is done, and then I will take you to our chamber and continue until you're pregnant."</p><p>Hannibal nods, his mouth dry when Will kisses him again.</p><p>Will smiles, and ascends his throne again. The floor is bloody and the air reeks of violent delight, and Hannibal knows that any simpering farmer, courtier, or foreign noble will look upon them and know exactly what they have done. He thinks of Will rising from his throne, penetrating Hannibal again as he listens dispassionately to the cries of his people. The thought makes him shiver and tremble with desire.</p><p>Chiyoh has returned, her task completed. She doesn't bat an eye at the new state of the throne room.</p><p>"Just in time," Will purrs to her. "Send the next one in, will you?"</p><p>She bows her head, and Will smiles, and nudges his foot to the base of Hannibal's tail. Immediately, Hannibal moves it to one side. It is not quite like a horse's – there is hair, there, far more than on his head, but the base of it is more prehensile than a common animal, and can be moved with greater dexterity.</p><p>He shivers at Will's low hum of pleasure, at the feeling of Will's toes dragging through the mess leaking out of him, gathering it and pushing it back inside. Hannibal turns his head and meets his beloved's eyes, finds them dark with desire. Will bites his lower lip and, idly, reaches down, palming at his cock as it begins to harden again.</p><p>"Will it anger you," he asks in a whisper, "to have others see you like this?"</p><p>"No, my queen," Hannibal replies, and it is honest. "I can think of no higher honor than receiving you. No matter the circumstances."</p><p>Will smiles, obviously pleased by that. "It may come sooner than you anticipate," Will tells him, his eyes lifting, briefly, to the entrance of the throne room. "I find it…incredibly satisfying. Having you at my mercy." He grins. "Of course, I don't need to be inside you to have you at my mercy, do you?"</p><p>"No," Hannibal murmurs. "You ruin me with merely a look."</p><p>Will laughs, at that, and his smile is wide, lopsided and dimpled and so, so terribly cruel. By all the gods, Hannibal didn't think he could adore his mate any more, and yet -. "I ruin you," he echoes, pleased and low and so beautiful it makes Hannibal ache, to gaze upon him. "I like the sound of that."</p><p>Hannibal smiles, shivering as Will continues to pet his sore rim and stroke himself in tandem. He purrs as another peasant enters, visibly trembling with terror at the sight. Hannibal lowers his mouth to the remains of Francis' corpse, content to gorge himself until Will comes for him again. He'll be eating for two, soon, after all.</p>
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